


Am I Just a Shadow You Drew?

by emraldmoon



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Central Park, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad, Light Angst, New York, New York City, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker - Freeform, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Without Powers, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, spiderson, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-12 23:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emraldmoon/pseuds/emraldmoon
Summary: Tony has been distant lately. Peter learns why.   [AU: No powers]





	Am I Just a Shadow You Drew?

Peter was content, sitting on the grass of Central Park, his knees tucked into his chest, a light breeze ruffling his hair. Clearly, Tony wasn't, the man sitting awkwardly beside him.

Peter had been begging Tony for _weeks_ to clear out a day for Tony to just sit in nature with him. It had been one of his favourite pastimes with May, and since the accident three years ago and after being adopted by Tony, Peter had felt the constant urge to return to the park, at least for the reminder of his lost aunt.

Tony, however, had always said ‘no’. There was an important meeting to attend. It was raining. The park was busy. Finally, Peter grew sick of it and called him out on his excuses, believing that once they got to the park, Tony would understand, and it would all be better.

Nope.

Peter had led Tony to his favourite spot, near the Bethesda Terrace overlooking the lake. The nearby fountain was beautiful, and he loved hearing the aspiring musicians playing under the terrace. He had led Tony into the shade of a nearby tree and sat down with him, warning the older man to wear _inexpensive_ jogging pants before they left the tower for this very reason, and to bring sunglasses and something to keep him entertained because they would be there for a while. (Of course, Peter was hoping Tony wouldn’t feel the need to listen to that last request. He figured spending time with his adopted son would be enough - but by the way Tony had been typing furiously on his Starkpad for the last thirty minutes, he clearly didn’t feel the same.)

The songs of birds and ruffling of trees didn’t provide him with a sense of comfort and serenity like they usually did. Peter expected that as soon as he got to the park, he would feel calm, and relaxed, and _full_ again - but the constant typing of a keyboard to his left prevented those feelings.

“Can you at least turn the volume down?” he grumbled, frustrated with Tony’s lack of sensitivity. This had been something Peter had been wanting to do for _weeks_ , and Tony was acting like it was just a frustrating chore. Another thing to check off his list.

“Sorry, Mr. Grumpy-Pants,” Tony replied, silencing his phone. Peter rolled his eyes at the man’s attempt to be funny. Peter didn’t _want_ to be funny right now. He wasn’t joking. He wanted compassion. He wanted to spend time with his _Dad_.

Clearly, that wasn’t happening today.

Fine, then. Peter could still enjoy Central Park without Tony.

Making his movements seem natural, Peter adjusted his body so Tony was _just_ out of his eyesight. Out of sight, out of mind.

Peter tilted his head to both sides, efficiently cracking his neck as he took a deep breath of spring air and tried to calm his senses as he watched boats float by on the lake. Some held couples sharing a romantic moment, while others held family, and one more passed… with a father and son.

With a heavy heart, Peter shoved down the thoughts of, _Why isn’t my Dad like that?_ And refocused his attention to the large fountain surrounded by tourists.

He watched the water cascade down the stone for a moment, the faint sound of drizzling hitting his ears a split second after seeing the droplets fall. He smiled at his own miniature scientific discovery. Sometimes, his enhanced senses could really be amazing.

A particularly sweet-smelling breeze caressed his face, and Peter smiled gently. Common sense told him it was just the smell of a young woman eating strawberries nearby, but the thought nagged at his mind nonetheless.

_It smelled just like Aunt May’s perfume._

Peter let his shoulders slump slightly as he continued to look around the park. This was it - the exact reason he wanted to come down here, to be closer to May. He missed her wildly in the first year after the accident, when that drunk driver ran a red light and hit her on the way home from a double-shift. He cried for _weeks_ and refused to leave his room. He barely ate, barely slept - but now, he was better. He was _healing_ , with time, and patience, and the smell of May’s perfume on the breeze, and-

A sudden notification alert made Peter roll his eyes so heavily he gave himself a minor headache.

And Tony.

Peter brought a hand up to the bridge of his nose as he turned his head slightly towards the older man.

“Tony, can’t you just put your phone away for a minute?”

Tony raised an eyebrow as his fingers hesitated momentarily on the device to stare up at Peter.

“Ironic.”

“What is?”

He went back to typing, averting his gaze, and Peter suppressed the urge to rip that phone out of his hands and launch it into the lake. Goodness knows he had the strength to.

“A teenager telling their guardian to put their phone away.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it, shaking his head slightly and turning back around, trying to forget the man behind him once more. He tried to recollect the feeling of peace and calm, but that one word kept nagging at the back of his mind.

 _Guardian_.

Peter had accepted Tony as his Dad half way through the first year of being adopted. He didn’t know if that was appropriate timing to finally be calling himself Tony Stark’s son; all that mattered was that it felt right, and, yeah, Tony was as much as a father figure to him as anyone would ever be.

Unfortunately, Tony didn’t seem to feel the same.

He had continued to call Peter _kiddo_ , but that was just a nickname. He never actually called the boy his _son_ , never referred to himself as Peter’s father, and Peter was growing used to skipping over the _Dear parents_ to reach the _/guardians_ opening line of every school permission form.

Because that seemed to be all Tony was to Peter.

His guardian.

Peter realized this about a year and a half in, when he stopped calling Tony _Dad_ to encourage the second half of the father-son relationship to kick in, and just started saying _Tony_ . (He realized _Mr. Stark_ would be too large of a step back.) To his dismay, Tony didn’t even seem to care.

Peter wasn’t sure why he was so disappointed with what Tony was doing. Stark Industries had become a wildly busy company, and the only times Tony _wasn’t_ on his phone was during mealtimes (though, Peter had a suspicion this was only so he could recharge its battery.) Maybe Peter thought this one-on-one time would change him. Maybe he thought, away from WiFi, Tony would have to pay for extra data, and would just _put the damn thing away_.

Stupid billionaires, not caring about phone bills.

In the last few moments of Peter’s inner monologue, notifications had begun to go off like crazy, Peter ignoring every single one. (Who’s that man behind him? Peter had no idea. Though, he pitied the poor kid who had to be _that_ guy’s son.)

Only when a ringtone echoed through the park on full volume did Peter finally turn back to his _guardian_ , about to give him permission to answer - because, _of course_ Tony wouldn’t answer the call during his bonding time with Peter.

“You’ve reached Stark.”

Oh. Maybe he _would_ answer.

Peter clenched his teeth together, pushing the heels of his hands against his forehead and threading his fingers up to pull on his curls. Tony, ever the business man, starting talking about security guards and camera footage from not even a meter away, Peter being close enough to hear every single word being said on _both_ ends of the line, each one only increasing his frustration levels.

When they reached the topic of background checks of employees, Peter couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m going for a walk,” he bit through gritted teeth, forcing his voice to remain quiet as he pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his pants, fully expecting Tony to hang up the phone, apologize, and pull the boy back down to the ground with him - but Peter should lower his expectations.

All he got was a dismissive wave of Tony’s hand.

Not even any eye contact.

Peter glared down at him incredulously, surprised a hole wasn’t burning through the man’s skill right now with how intensely he was staring. But Tony wasn’t even looking up to see it.

Peter kicked a stone across the walkway and followed it as he stomped passed the fountain and found himself under the terrace, listening to today’s aspiring group of artists sing a country ballad. Jaw clenched so hard his teeth might break, Peter brought himself to stand behind the crowd, leaning against the wall in the shadows where there was a small chance of him being seen. (But really, who would be looking for him?)

Peter crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, tapping his foot to the song playing.

And then he tapped his foot to the next song.

And the song after that.

And then with these musicians finished their set and a group of hip hop dancers came in, he listened to their music, too - the entire time wondering why Tony hadn’t come to find him.

Why his _Dad_ hadn’t come to find him.

He only realized the music had stopped and everyone had left when he heard footsteps getting louder, approaching him.

“What’re you doing down here, sweetheart?” the approaching woman asked, and Peter’s hair stood up along his arms. _Danger._

“I was just watching the show.” Peter’s voice faltered as he raised a weak arm to point towards where the dancers _used_ to be. Now, though, it was empty. There was no one around.

Peter’s heartbeat quickened and blood began to rush in his ears as he realized his situation.

He was currently in a darkened tunnel, this woman standing between him and the exit that lead to his - screw it, his _Dad_ \- who had no idea he was here, anyway. His only hope, besides going around this woman, would be to run to the other exit to the terrace - the other exit that must be at least 20 meters away.

Wait - who said this woman was even _dangerous_? It could’ve been a cool breeze that caused the hairs on his arms to stand on end.

Peter moved to step around the woman, giving her a small smile with his gaze averted. Suddenly, her hand reached out to grab Peter’s upper arm, nails digging in, causing Peter to yelp.

“Show’s over, sweetie,” her voice sang in a falsely sweet tone. Peter gently tried to move his arm from her grasp as he looked up at her with wide eyes. He was in danger.

“You’re damn right, show’s over,” a sudden voice growled from the entrance to the terrace, causing the woman’s head to whip around in surprise as she released Peter’s arm. “That’s right. Get your hands off my kid.”

The woman tried to stutter something, but Tony held up a hand, silencing her. “Nope. You’re done. Scram.”

Smartly, she took his advice, footsteps echoing off the inside of the terrace as she hurried out the opposite end. Peter watched her go, breathing heavily, blood rushing loudly in his ears.

Slowly, he turned his head back to Tony, knees threatening to give out from under him. The man was still glaring out the entrance she had just left, refusing to drop his gaze even after she was long gone. Peter could see his hands clenched into fists at his side, the definition of his jaw clearly visible with how hard he was gritting his teeth.

“Tony.” Peter took a shaky step closer, and then another when the man didn’t respond, eventually being close enough to rest a gentle hand on Tony’s arm. Tony’s head shot down to him, eyes verging on wild, before lowering even further to find Peter’s hand resting on his bicep. Peter, noticing the prolonged eye contact, quickly moved to pull his hand away.

Right. He shouldn’t do that. Tony was only his _guardian_.

“You alright, kid?” Tony breathed, his eyes flickering on Peter’s face, but never lingering for long.

 _Tony doesn’t really care,_ Peter thought bitterly. _I’m just his ward._

“Yeah,” Peter sighed, nodding as he scuffed the toe of his shoe into the ground. In reality, his heart was beating, his breath was _extremely_ agitated, his legs were trembling, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he fainted right here and now. So, no, he was not _alright_ . But it was nothing his _guardian_ should concern himself with.

Tony looked shaken as he gave a light nod, eyes seeming to look anywhere but at Peter.

“Okay. Well, uh, let’s go home then, alright bud?”

Tony started to turn away, but Peter couldn’t do this anymore. So when Tony turned back around, asking why Peter wasn’t following, Peter was ready with what he was going to say.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Tony froze, tilting his head as he stared down at Peter.

“No - no, of course not, Peter, this was _not_ your fault. That woman-”

“No.” Peter sighed in frustration. “No, I get _that_. I mean, did I do something wrong three years ago?”

Realization dawned on Tony’s face and he hurried to move closer to Peter, who began to smile as Tony reached out to set a hand on his shoulder. He was finally caring. He was finally-

“Peter, May’s death was _not_ your fault.”

This time, it was Peter’s turn to freeze. He squinted his eyes as he stepped back, brushing Tony’s arm from his shoulder.

“No - _geez_ , Tony, hold on a second.” Tony just tilted his head, confused, as Peter ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, did I do something to make you hate me?”

Peter didn’t care enough to sugar coat it. It had been _three years_ with these false emotions, this hollow feeling in his chest where paternal love should be. He wasn’t going to live with it any longer.

Tony’s face paled.

“ _Hate_ you?” Tony had to force the word out. If Peter didn’t know any better, by the way he was saying it, he would guess Tony had never heard the word before. Had no idea what it meant.

Peter just shrugged, avoiding eye contact. It felt kind of silly, him suggesting this, but he had proof. Three years of it. He had wanted to say this for a while - he wasn’t going to stop now.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s been great, living with you,” he hurried to say, “and I’m so grateful you adopted me, but….”

Tony’s gaze seemed transfixed on Peter’s face, like it was impossible for him to look anywhere but. Peter wanted to laugh. _Now_ he was paying attention. Peter wondered what would happen if he got a phone call. Would he answer it?

“Look, Tony, you know you didn’t have to adopt me, right?”

“Peter, what the-”

Peter held up a finger and Tony immediately, though reluctantly, went silent.

“You didn’t have to. Look, I don’t know if you pitied me after May-” Tony looked like he was biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood- “or if this was something for the press-”

Tony couldn’t hold back his interjection.

“You never say that again.” He quickly closed the distance between them and grabbed both Peter’s shoulders, a small fire burning in his eyes. Peter wanted to shrink away at the intensity, but Tony had such a tight grip on his shoulders, he couldn’t move. Instead, he just stared down at the ground.

Tony sighed as he released Peter’s left shoulder to place two gentle fingers under his chin, tilting the boy’s head up to meet his eyes. Peter wanted to flinch away, but they were less angry now, just… _sad_.

“Peter,” he whispered, his hand relaxing on Peter’s shoulder, settling for gently rubbing his bicep. “Peter, you are _not_ just a pity project,” he sighed, moving his thumb to stroke Peter’s cheek gently. The boy went to move away, but Tony readjusted his grip so Peter’s chin was fixed in his hand.

“No, you look at me, okay?” The fire had returned to his eyes, and Peter felt he had no choice but to obey. “You look at me, because I need you to understand this. Peter, you are _not_ a pity project, and you are _definitely_ not - not a publicity stunt! Peter, you-”

Tony took a moment to sigh, look away, and compose himself, before returning his gaze to Peter.

“You are so, so much more. You mean _so_ much to me, do you understand that?”

Peter didn’t realize he was crying until he noticed Tony’s gaze follow a tear trail down his cheek.

“You never refer to me as your son,” Peter whispered, and Tony’s gaze softened, his eyes sad. “You still treat me as an intern, and you were on your phone all day today,” he muttered, hating how he sounded like a child. “It seems like you don’t really want me.”

Tony was quiet, and Peter sighed, his head falling out of Tony’s grip to stare at the ground.

“Peter,” Tony said quietly, his voice not even loud enough to echo against the high roof. “Please, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Peter complied.

“Of _course_ I want you, kiddo,” he murmured, reaching a hand out to run it along Peter’s arm. “After… you know, after May, if I didn’t - if I didn’t _want you_ , as you put it, I would’ve looked for other relatives, or maybe even checked with Ned’s parents, you know? I-” Tony sighed, looking away. “Geez, I’ve never been this honest before. Okay, well, here goes.

“You know me. You know I don’t do things unless I want to.” Peter gave a little nod, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Tony considered that a win. “If I didn’t want to adopt you, I wouldn’t have. Simple as that.” Peter still looked doubtful, but he nodded anyways.

“Gosh, kid. You’re so selfless all the time, you know that?” Peter looked up, confused. “I can see you’re not convinced, so don’t act like you are, ‘cause I got more proof, alright? I got tons.” Peter blushed and smiled sheepishly. Tony had hit the nail on the head.

“Listen, the reason I haven’t called you my son - goodness knows I want to - is… well, there’s two reasons.” Tony took a deep breath, looking away as he blinked back the beginning of tears. “You know my Dad, Howard,” he started, and Peter nodded slowly, confused as to what Tony was hinting at. “He never - I mean, sure, he was my father, but he never really acted like my Dad, you know?” Tony sighed, not even understanding what he himself was saying - how could Peter?

“I guess I’m just…” Tony hesitated, trying to avoid saying the word - but eventually he decided there was no way around it. “ _scared_. Howard was - he was a nightmare, and I - I’m scared of….”

Tony couldn’t finish. He bit his lip, looking away, trying to keep tears from falling. He couldn’t be crying, not now.

Suddenly, he felt gentle arms wrapping around his waist. Tony looked down, surprised, and saw Peter, hugging him gently. Slowly, Tony raised his arms and wrapped them tenderly around the boy, holding him secure in his arms.

“You could never be like him,” Peter whispered into his chest with such ferocity, Tony was blinking back tears once again. “You are so much more than he ever was, than he ever could be.”

Tony smiled, his cheek resting against Peter’s curls. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Peter chuckled quietly into his chest and gently stepped away, Tony’s arms falling to hang loosely at his sides.

“And the second reason?”

Tony sighed quietly, tilting his head to stare down at Peter sadly. “I didn’t want to call you my son, because I don’t want you to think I’m replacing your Dad. In no way am I trying to do that. I didn’t want to force it on you, kiddo.”

Peter’s eyes were rimmed with red. He was _crying_.

“No, I-” Peter sniffled and wiped away his tears with his sleeve. “I’d like that.”

Tony smiled, one of those rare toothy grins coming from the great Tony Stark.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Peter chuckled as Tony rushed forwards to encompass him in a hug, resting his chin above the boy’s head as a hand found its way into his curls. Tony closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of his _son_ tucked against his chest.

“Gosh, I love you so, _so_ much, kid, you know that?”

He felt Peter nod into his chest, but the boy didn’t try to say anything. For Peter to be understood, he’d have to leave Tony’s grasp, and he did _not_ want to do that.

Slowly, the two adjusted themselves into a position where they were still in a tight embrace, but in a way where they could walk forwards - and they did, slowly moving down the path in the direction of the tower. In the direction of _home_.

“So, wait,” Peter said as they began to walk away. “Why were you on your phone this whole time?”

Tony laughed suddenly, catching Peter off guard.

“Checking security for the park. Did you see that woman sitting by the fountain? And the couple in the boat?”

“Um, yeah?”

“My security.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, kid, that’s how I found out you needed help.”

Peter looked up at his Dad incredulously, and Tony stared back down at him, smirking.

“Security cameras.”

Peter laughed, letting his head fall back on Tony’s shoulder as they continued their trek home.

“You’re stuck with me, kid. Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go.”

“I know, Dad.” Peter smiled. “I know.”


End file.
